


Plea

by chaoticlivi



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 12:28:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19905715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticlivi/pseuds/chaoticlivi
Summary: Aziraphale can't say he wants to give the thermos to Crowley, but there doesn't seem to be much choice.





	Plea

The back room at A.Z. Fell & Co. is mostly dark, lit only by some ambient light spilling in from outside, where the streets are still busy. The other businesses around here don’t close at five. Half of them aren’t even _open_ at five.

Aziraphale stares at the tartan thermos in his hands. It’s like holding a high-powered explosive.

No, turning on the lights wouldn’t feel _right_.

“Now I don’t - I don’t think it would be a very good idea for me to pray for you,” he whispers to it. “Probably get us both in a huge amount of trouble, really.”

The thermos doesn’t respond. Aziraphale doesn’t expect it to, of course, because it’s just a stand-in for someone else. He isn’t quite sure what he’s doing; it’s something between ventilating his emotions and rehearsing for what he’s going to say later. But the pleas, even the excessive ones, just have to spill from his throat somehow. He’s sort of letting himself imagine, or hope, that when the thermos is no longer in his hands, his feelings will stay with it. And Crowley will know.

“Don’t do anything stupid, please. I’m _begging_ you.”

He wants to reach out, in his ethereal way, and just drop the thoughts in Crowley’s head. But that would use all kinds of miracles and cross all kinds of boundaries.

“I know you’re...smart. Goodness. That’s a bit of an understatement, isn’t it? I guess I just have to...”

He trails off, glances at the room around him, studies the spot where the ethereal circle used to be. It’s no longer lit from the blessing of the water - in fact, he can barely see the chalk outlines of it in this lowlight.

“...I just have to believe in you. To do the - ah. To _not_ do the _wrong_ thing,” he says. Holding back a sad chuckle, he adds, “Funny thing to ask, I suppose, of someone like you, but you’ve never failed me before.”

Right. Dangerous feelings getting stirred up again. Aziraphale stands, shuffles a bit as he tucks the thermos into his longcoat.

“Be careful, Crowley,” he murmurs, wrapping the thermos more tightly to his body than necessary. “Don’t make me regret this. Please.” He stands still for a moment, looking down at where the infern-- the hol-- the burdensome thing is covered. Imagines it exploding under his coat.

Aziraphale locks the door to the shop behind him, feet uncharacteristically heavy as he sets out to where Crowley is supposed to be tonight.


End file.
